


trials of the heart

by MavenMorozova



Series: i hate you, i love you [6]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Blood Bond, Dominant Masochism, Emotional Hurt, Hate Sex, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, Light Sadism, Love/Hate, M/M, Masochism, Mutual Masturbation, Office Sex, One Shot, Painplay, Post-Movie 2: Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald, Regret, Request Meme, Self-Hatred, Shame, Trauma, Unresolved Emotional Tension, no physical pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:21:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27285607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MavenMorozova/pseuds/MavenMorozova
Summary: In a moment of weakness, Albus Dumbledore allows himself to see Gellert Grindelwald.
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald
Series: i hate you, i love you [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1982635
Comments: 8
Kudos: 44





	trials of the heart

**Author's Note:**

> anon requested: grindeldore + hate sex  
> also written for @jbbuckbarnes's 2020 kinktober day 20 - mutual masturbation
> 
> Ok so this was meant to be smutty, but then it got overloaded with angst. So. Be prepared. (it's still a little smutty though)

_ “And you, Master. What does your heart tell you you're meant for?” _ _  
_ _ “Infinite sadness,” Obi-Wan said, even while smiling. _

— James Luceno,  _ Labyrinth of Evil _

***

“You know, Albus, when I told you that I’d see you again, I didn’t mean like this.”

Gellert’s smirk is sharp and almost painful, looking like it can cut diamonds from where it shines across the connection. Albus watches on the other side, trying to stay calm. It has been so long since he’s seen his old lover, and the feeling is overwhelming.

He is all too aware of the heavy and yet also featherlight pendant, their blood bond, resting in his own pocket. Albus smiles. He must remember to thank Newt and his handy niffler again. Once was not enough, for this bond might just change everything.

But that is not what he wants to worry about right now. He wants to be closer to Gellert, despite all the evil deeds that Gellert has done. For some reason, it intoxicates him, this tantalizing precarious balance between them.

So, carefully, Albus pinches the diamond-shaped blood pact in between his middle and index fingers, pulls it out of his breast pocket, and tosses it onto his desk.

Gellert raises his eyebrows.

Albus frowns. “What are you saying?” he asks, voice hoarse with want. He  _ knows  _ why Gellert is here, he  _ called  _ Gellert here, and yet he wants to hear every sinful word from that perfect little mouth. So he leans forward, brushing his old lover’s phantom lip, even though all he can feel is the slightly dry air of the classroom around him. “Tell me, dear one.”

Gellert takes in a quick breath at the sound of the pet name leaving Albus’s mouth, but makes no reaction otherwise. Albus smiles at the emotion he was able to elicit from the rising Dark Lord, even if it was just a little. It was always Gellert who clung to his firm grip on the table of their relationship, and now, just a little, Albus dances with the power in his grasp. It’s a lovely, sharp feeling, like too many shots of firewhisky late at night—or early in the morning.

Albus wants more of it, so he leans closer, snaking an arm around Gellert’s phantom waist. It’s a pity that he can’t  _ really  _ touch the man, but he figures that this will do. He can see, more than anything, Gellert’s shallow breathing as they drift closer in this odd format, despite the fact that they are countries away from each other.

“Tell me,” Albus snaps, beginning to lose his patience. It’s delightful to see Gellert flinch, like someone has come at him with their wand raised instead of just two words from an old lover. Albus revels in the demure look Gellert gives him, and it takes everything in his power to not deepen the spell he has cast and summon the man to him fully, body and all. He is powerful. He can do such a thing.

Of course, he lied to Travis. Having Grindelwald come to him would be as easy as flipping a switch, as the muggles like to say. But Albus does not have it in him to stomach such a feat. So he has left Gellert alone...until now.

“I’m saying that I didn’t expect you to want me after everything I did,” Gellert whispers in that soft, terrible voice of his. Albus has always thought it sounds like the rustle of leaves on a tree in autumn before they cascade to the forest floor. It’s still the same, after all these years.

“And what did you do?” Albus asks, steeling himself for the coming pain. “Tell me.  _ TELL ME!” _

He catches himself, turning away to take a few deep breaths to calm himself. He cannot allow himself to lose his composure in such a way, or one day, it will slip out around Travis and the ministry if he is not careful. It will bite him in the arse, just like Gellert has always said.

Behind him, the man himself laughs lightly, more of a huff than anything else. “Careful, Albus, or you just might—”

“Be quiet,” Albus says calmly, turning back to face Gellert with a slight smile on his face. He feels something dangerous coiling within him, and it takes everything he has to push it down inside. “Just...tell me what you did, dear one.” The words are almost painful as they flutter from his lips.

Gellert’s face twists into a sadistic smirk. “I nearly killed your family,” he whispers oh-so-quietly. “I exposed your sister and I trampled on your perfect vision of an imperfect world.” He leans in, and for the first time, Albus can see that something long and hard is pushing out from his trousers. It sends a delightful shiver through him. Gellert is  _ enjoying  _ this just as much as Albus is.

“But you know what was  _ really  _ terrible?” Gellert asks. He doesn’t wait for Albus to respond, instead gripping his shoulder. His  _ shoulder.  _ Gellert is halfway-here, and Albus realizes that in the heat of the moment, he must have strengthened the spell. Swallowing, he lets his magic go.

“What was really terrible,” Gellert says, “is that your sister died, hmm?”

Albus gasps at the words, hot and thick pressure springing up behind his eyes. It’s so painful now that he can’t breathe, and Gellert stands there before him, hard as a rock, turned on by his deep, unyielding pain. “My sister,” Albus repeats, squeezing his eyes shut. “You killed her.”

Gellert chuckles. “Did I?” he asks quietly, pretending to flick dust from his fingers. “Or was it you all along, my dear?”

Albus stills, a heavy chill settling over him, much like the fog of Dementors. Every thought he harbored has slipped away, and he is left with this mind-bending, terrible idea festering inside his mind.  _ Had he? Had he killed Ariana? _

“The eloquent professor, speechless,” Gellert mocks, bringing a hand to palm himself through his pants. “What a sight to see.”

Albus wants to crumple into a heap on the thin carpet of his office floor, pretend that the world does not exist, and let himself cry. Thanks to the expectations of Armando Dippet and the Ministry, really the entire world, he has never been able to do that. But right now, despite everything, he finds that he can’t cry at all. He is hollow, a shell, a husk of a person.

“I—killed—” he chokes out, spinning on his heel and settling himself on his worn, messy desk piled with ungraded papers, head in his hands. “Fuck, Gellert—”

“It may not be true, of course,” Gellert snorts bluntly. “I am just telling you of a possibility, my dear. You wanted me to, as you put it so eloquently, ‘ _ TELL YOU!’” _ He smirks as he mocks Albus’s tone, placing a thin, pale finger on his lips, tapping it slowly. “Or was that only in jest?”

Albus pinches the bridge of his nose, breathing through it hard and fast. Finally, he swallows and looks up again. Gellert is standing there, haughty and cruel, in that same stance that Albus used to always love when they were teenagers. That hurts, too. Just the memory of it all.

“Then make me forget,” he finally says. “Pretend you are here and make it all slide into oblivion. Please.” He has never been able to cling to a dominant position for long, and now he is reduced to his usual pleading. It’s almost relieving.

Gellert smiles and begins to unzip his trousers, reaching inside to pull out his hard member. He pumps it slowly, lips parted just a little. “I will not join you, my dear, but I will gladly watch you.”

Albus shivers, high of his pain and the sight of Gellert getting off before him. He feels himself stiffening at the sensation of it all, and soon he is thrusting into his own hand as well. “Gellert,” he moans, clutching onto the edge of his desk for support. A paper is disturbed and flies down to the floor, facedown. Albus doesn’t care. “Fuck, Gellert, I—”

“Love me?” Gellert hisses. “Hate me? Want to fuck me?” He grunts, jerking his hips. “Want to get fucked  _ by  _ me?”

Albus moans at his old lover’s words, fisting himself tightly. “All of that,” he murmurs to himself under his breath, but Gellert hears anyway, and his eyes darken with an emotion that Albus can’t decipher.

The room is silent for a few moments, the only sounds being their dual panting as they pleasure themselves. Slowly, Albus meets Gellert’s eyes and keeps them locked there. It’s almost like they are together again, though Albus does not have the courage to re-consummate their relationship fully. Together, they hang on the edge of a cliff, a cliff that overlooks the stormy, transformative sea. Tonight has changed  _ everything _ in Albus’s mind, and he can’t go back.

With Gellert’s phantom hand in his, even as he roils at the visible contact, Albus takes a deep breath in.

And then he lets go.

Gellert’s form disappears from his office, and Albus is left alone again, far more broken than before. He supposes that this is the way it was always meant to be, and so he retreats into the bedchamber that breaks off from his office, heart dully aching with pain.

It’s only when he finally falls asleep that he begins to cry.

**Author's Note:**

> i can't help but write angst for them, even when I'm writing smut. it's just...how i operate with this ship at this point. there's no other option! ANGST! :elmofire: !!! also, ali, if you're reading this--thanks for the encouragement in the sprinting channel, babe!
> 
> one more thing--the quote at the top comes from star wars, obviously, and i very much need to read that book, but i haven't yet ahhhh! still, though, the comparisons between obi-wan & Dumbledore are obviously very apparent (i mean let's be honest they all play the old wizard mentor figure that has to die at some point) but they are also just such _tragic_ characters, there's no denying that! so i had to include that quote.
> 
> hope you liked it! comments are always appreciated. come and talk to me on tumblr @sanktaleksander!


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